


Of Baseballs and Brick Walls

by Stratus



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, M/M, abe being a nerd, complilation, oneshots, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:51:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2266992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stratus/pseuds/Stratus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of 30-60 minute Oofuri-related writing prompts. Yes, they will be weird, they will be dorky, but hopefully they'll also make you smile, or laugh, or some other marginally positive emotion. I don't even know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Abe Buries a Squirrel and Has Lots of Feels and Thinks Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I think the chapter title is pretty self-explanatory. This is definitely one of the weirder prompts I did. 
> 
> About the prompts in general - Most of these were written pretty much spur-of-the-moment with little or no planning, however, I'm not going to edit or re-write them so much, so they will be weird, but hopefully not too incomprehensibly stupid. I have several written already, but need to edit them a bit before posting. I admit, some of this is vent-writing, so I wasn't always thinking about writing the characters as on-character as I could have or maybe should have, rather, I was dabbling around and trying things out, so character aspects may change from chapter to chapter. However, I hope everyone still seems like themselves, and things don't get too weird or meander into the depths of obscurity too much.

There was something pitiful about them, but at the same time almost defiant. Sitting there on the ground, not a bone out of place, as though saying ‘you can’t tear me apart, even in death’. Without thinking, Abe knelt down, and almost reached out to touch the little pile of bones, before he realized what he was doing, and shuddered. The byproducts of death, in their rawness, had always disturbed him, but somehow these were drawing him in. Asking him to know their story.

It had been a mammal, he was sure of that, judging by the small skull that lacked any sort of beak, and the residual hair. And it had died in a location that, presumably, no one had bothered to tread on for a good long while, not even cats or dogs. Or maybe cats and dogs did frequent this area, but had never bothered to even move the bones out of place. There was something about that thought that was so pitiful it was uncomfortable to contemplate.

Abe wondered how it had died. Maybe falling from the trees that surrounded the location, or a virus, or maybe just old age or tiredness at life in general. But then, whatever its story had been, no one cared enough to do anything about that, no one was around to even see its last breath…

Abe felt restless, and highly uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t explain, which just made him more uncomfortable. Wistful. He started at the sad remains, not thinking anything in particular, just letting the feeling wash over him, hoping it would pass.

Abruptly, he stood up, and, crunching over the leafy loam to the base of the nearest tree, started to kick at the soil with his foot, feeling somewhat stupid about what he was about to do, but not self-conscious enough in his seclusion to stop. After all, there was a reason he hadn’t been unlucky enough to come across the little dead squirrel, or chipmunk, or whatever it was earlier, when it’s remains would have been far less pleasant to be near. This was a shortcut he had only just discovered, and possibly not a shortcut at all, but certainly nicer than the usual roads he biked on coming home from baseball practice. The little patch of woods and thick underbrush had called him in, though he didn’t spend long entertaining the idea that it had been for a reason. Things like fate and destiny weren’t practical, and he’d learned not to rely on them in his life.

The thought that he had found a place that probably almost no one had been to before filled him with a satisfaction that momentarily blocked out the confused slew of emotions, as he somewhat halfheartedly kicked at the leaves and soil. But, after all, there were plenty of people living in this area, this was a relatively small patch of woods…surely someone else had been through here in the past week or two, and in that case, the situation was even sadder. People had noticed, but no one cared…except for him. He tore a small branch off the tree, and began to widen out the hole, with much more resolve.

Abe didn’t question too much the fact that he _did_ care, but he was perplexed at what his feelings were doing. He liked animals, but he was usually a bit distant, a bit removed from their problems, unless they were directly in front of him and he could do something about them. It was too late for this one, so there was no reason to get worked up about it. Death was death, and if you died alone…well, what did it matter? It’s not like it changed anything after you were dead.

Abe scowled and stabbed through a leaf with his stick, momentarily distracted from his digging as he skewered a few more leaves, then scraped them off and broke them into pieces, crumbling them into powder. There was something so wrong about that logic, something disturbing about it. What about everyone else then? He knew a squirrel was probably far too single-minded to care much about such a small beat in the timeline of another squirrel’s life, but what if no one in the world cared at all? The thought made him angry. Did anyone deserve to be totally invisible, and unappreciated their whole lives? Well, maybe some people in this world did, but certainly not an animal that had done nothing wrong. And what about the people who didn’t care, who were forever unaware? That seemed even more pitiful for some reason.

Abe realized he was going to have to finish the hole with his hands if he wanted it to be deep enough. Then his hands would be caked with mud, and the feeling would be so uncomfortable on the ride home, and he did have a ways to go…he almost felt disgusted with himself that he wasn’t willing to put up with that tiny discomfort, but after all, if he could avoid it, he would. He went back to his bike, which he didn’t even realize till now was unceremoniously dumped on its side on the ground. He must have done it when he first saw the little pile of bones. He was so affected by it that he hadn’t even been thinking about his bike as he dropped it. That was a first. Abe almost felt a strange sort of pride and satisfaction that he had been so affected, that he hadn’t had to try, or fake it and make himself act like he knew he was supposed to feel - the emotions were just _there_ without him asking. So many parts of his life he had learned to control, so it felt good to lose that control on occasion. It made him feel present in the world. Alive.

His bag had fallen out of the basket, and he rooted through it, trying to find something to dig with. In between the jersey and sweaty undershirts, his hand brushed against something that crackled loudly. Pulling it out, he was momentarily confused – he usually never stored any kind of trash in the main compartment of his bag if he could help it, and this was just a plastic wrapper. Then he read the label, and memories from that afternoon clicked into place. Mihashi, stuttering, handing him the plastic-wrapped bun, Mihashi, who had apparently brought an extra by accident, choosing to share it with him, instead of Tajima, whom Mihashi had an easier time getting along with. It was stupid, but somehow it made him happy just looking at it, and he’d saved the wrapper, and now he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to use it for what he was about to use it for.

He wrapped it over his hand, but paused before he started digging with the improvised hand protector. It was stupid…so stupid, there was no need to save it, he should have thrown it away right away, but it reminded him of Mihashi’s expression when he’d handed it over, reminded him that Mihashi, in his own small way, did care enough to give it to Abe, and didn’t hate him…

Sighing, he threw it back towards his bag, then scooped up a handful of dirt and tossed it to the side. He was spending time digging a grave for a squirrel, he might as well get sentimental about plastic wrappers while he was at it.

He briefly contemplated carrying the bones into the little grave as they were, without disturbing their neat arrangement, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to touch them. Plus, there was something about that that felt like going too far. He already dug a grave for it, he didn’t think it would mind if he pushed the bones in with a stick somewhat unceremoniously. As he covered them up with dirt and leaves, he couldn’t deny that he felt a sense of completion. He poked the stick into the head of the tiny grave, and, still kneeling there, let out a deep breath.

At least one being on earth cared, was here to bring things full circle. What happened if no one did? What if he died and no one even knew, and no one ever cared? Logically, Abe knew it wouldn’t change anything about his own death, but it still felt so wrong, so sad. But wasn’t it self-centered to want everyone to care about him that much? What if someone he knew died and no one knew? If any of his family died…no, Abe shook the horrible thought. At least with them, he would care, and they knew plenty of people by now who would most certainly do so as well. But what if his teammates, what if Mihashi…

Abe stood up abruptly, almost violently picking up his bike, and shoved his bag back into the basket. He picked up the plastic wrapper, taking another deep breath, his fist tightening against his chest. No, if something happened to Mihashi…and if no one cared, then that would be their loss. They would never know what he was like, what made him Mihashi, what made him an exceptional pitcher…and a good person, and that would be the saddest thing of all.

He put the wrapper back in his bag carefully, and seated himself on his bike in the fading light, gripping the handlebars so tight his knuckles turned white. NOTHING would happen. Nothing was going to happen…He was an absolute idiot for even letting the thought cross his mind. He wouldn’t _let_ anything happen. As he rode out of the little forest, he laughed to himself, wondering if the weird atmosphere in there had really gotten to him. Still, he couldn’t quite shake the panic that had gripped him at the thought of… _that_ happening to Mihashi, and resolved to work even harder to keep his teammate safe from now on. _NO_ , he corrected himself, his team _mates._ Though he had to concede that Mihashi was the one who was in the most need of protecting, and he was pretty sure the rest of the team would agree.

If something happened, then people would care. Lots of people would care. And there was no way no one would be apathetic towards something like that happening anymore. Not that they had started to win. Not that now _he_ had helped to show people how amazing Mihashi could be. The pride and happiness at that thought made his heart jump to his throat. As his bike tires clunked down off the sidewalk outside the wood and onto the street, his chest felt full with pride, and resoluteness, and there was nothing more in the world that he wanted in that moment than to show even more people in the world his incredible little team, _their_ team, and their amazing pitcher. He wanted everyone in the entire world to care at least almost as much as he did.    

 

 


	2. Nickname

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something short, with hopefully with a sweetness ratio higher than its dorkiness ratio, though that's doubtful. I'm not sure if it's better to think of Mihashi forever calling Abe 'Abe-kun', or eventually switching to his first name, but in any case, this is but one exploration of the latter. 
> 
> Also Abe is a nerd again. Also the sky is blue.

It wasn’t until the fall of their second year of highschool that Mihashi finally started referring to Abe by his first name. He had figured that one day it would happen, but had never really thought about when, only having a vague picture in his head of him and Mihashi finally just getting along so well that they would just come to the agreement one day, maybe on a train, talking like two business men about it smoothly and matter-of-factly. Instead, it was spontaneous and completely out-of-the-blue (though when Abe looked back on it, he’d realize that it wasn’t nearly as out-of-the-blue as he first thought).

What he really wasn’t prepared for was how much it affected him when Mihashi uttered his first ‘Takaya’ in the middle of a game. Luckily, it was only a practice game against one of the local schools, otherwise Abe would have been seriously worried how his gameplay was being affected by hearing Mihashi shout ‘T-TAKAYA! YOU CAN HIT IT!’ from the dugout when he was up to bat. He didn’t get used to it throughout the entire game. It took him the rest of the week just to pinpoint exactly how it made him feel.

A teammate calling him by his first name shouldn’t make his heart leap like that, shouldn’t make him feel so awake, so present. Some of his other teammates, namely Tajima, had used his first name on more than one occasion, but it didn't feel nearly as significant for them. For Mihashi, it was a milestone, and for Abe, it was almost like he was being fully recognized for the first time. It wasn’t just that Mihashi had gotten comfortable enough around him - if it was just that, he probably would have started months sooner. They had gotten so used to calling each other by their last names, that to switch to first names was almost like adopting a nickname. Breaking through a wall, though Abe wasn’t sure what was on the other side. Nothing about their friendship really changed significantly, but lately, whenever they talked or consulted with one another, it felt like there was a new layer of unspoken understanding, a piece of warmth that would never go away.

It took him days just for his heart to stop leaping into his throat every time he heard it, and though he sometimes felt a twinge of sadness and loss that Mihashi had dropped the ‘kun’ at the end of his name, this was still much preferable.

It wasn’t for another month that Abe finally got the courage to squeeze out a ‘Ren’, and from then on he referred to Mihashi by his first name. He was ashamed and somewhat confused at just how hard it had been. It was ridiculous. Why had he clung onto calling Mihashi by his family name for almost two years?

In the spring of their last year of highschool, he wasn’t nearly as surprised when Mihashi affectionately added a ‘chan’ to the end of his name, which by now he had shortened to ‘Taka’. That had annoyed Abe at first. Taka was what his family called him, and his family so often was a source of frustration to him, even though he did care for them. Ren wasn’t like that…he wasn’t ever a burden like his family sometimes was. He was never someone that Takaya felt like he wanted to escape. He was someone to keep close. But there was something about the way that Ren said it that made it different. Maybe the fact that he only said it outside of practice or when they were speaking between each other that made it feel right. It was something that he had worked towards and finally won, rather that something they had dropped conveniently in their laps and would forever be doomed to be jaded about.

Abe couldn’t find it in himself to ever let slip a ‘Ren-chan’ in return, although sometimes he did jokingly call Mihashi by his cousin’s nickname for him, ‘Ren-Ren’. Mihashi always acted embarrassed and mildly annoyed by it, but walked off smiling.


	3. Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I know, it's been forever since I've updated. Life and stuff. This chapter is almost entirely unedited from the original, except for typos and such, so I hope it didn't turn out TOO strange...*crabwalks away*

When Mihashi was in middle school, his class had been giving the assignment to write about who their hero was and why. Mihashi had panicked. He had no idea who to write about, and the realization that he didn’t have a hero just made things worse. Probably no one else was having trouble picking theirs, so obviously, he was missing out on something. At first, he had considered picking his parents, but was unsure which one to write about. Besides, he was pretty sure that parents were not the kind of hero you were supposed to write about.

In the end, he’d settled for the pitcher of the Rakuten Golden Eagles, listed off a few of his more admirable qualities, and crossed his fingers that it would be good enough. His essay was lost among the mediocrity everyone else’s essays.

Still, the experience had gotten Mihashi thinking of what a hero really _was_. Before when he’d thought of heroes, it had been the classic image of warriors with immeasurable power and charm, caped figures, samurai, and firefighters. But then, the question had been who _his_ hero was, and of that, he was even more unsure. His mom and dad worked so hard for him, and each other, but even though he had considered writing about them originally, it had been more out of desperation than true sentiment. He did think they were his personal heroes in a way, but wasn’t that their job, and not something that made them particularly unique?

After the tsunami had hit the coast, killing innumerable people, but luckily far enough away that he wasn’t directly affected, he had heard the word ‘hero’ flung around an amazing number of times on TV, referring to medics, rescue crews, and often just ordinary citizens that had gone out of their way to help others, his perspective on the word shifted somewhat, but he still wasn’t convinced. The classic image of what made up a hero was too deeply imbedded in his mind.

It wasn’t until he was directly affected that he truly began to understand what the word meant, at least to him. He had taken a shortcut as he was riding back from school, and run over a broken bottle which had been enough to flatten his front tire. He had been forced to walk what would have been a twenty minute bike ride back to his house in the gathering darkness, feeling more alone and panicky by the second. Images which became more and more horrible with each shaky step he took began to creep into his mind, until he was jumping at every little sound, and closing his eyes when he passed dark alleyways, which was somehow better than looking directly into them.

When a figure had approached him from one of the houses, he had been so scared he couldn’t think, and was quite literally paralyzed. However, the shadowy figured turned out to be a middle-aged woman who had asked him what was wrong. There was an authoritative tone to it, but at the same time, Mihashi sensed kindness and concern. She had let him borrow her bike, standing firmly in the way of his weak protests, and he had promised to pick his up the next day. When he had woken up the next morning, however, he found his own bike parked neatly outside the front door, tire freshly repaired. When he had gone to see the woman to thank her, she had simply smiled, and asked him to keep his spirits up and enjoy life as much as he could.

He had been overwhelmed by her kindness, and for the first time, the word ‘hero’ began to carry some weight for him. Maybe she wasn’t the kind of hero that would be on every news station, or that people would collect action figures of (Mihashi couldn’t help but laugh at the thought), but she certainly was his hero and probably the hero of plenty other people, affecting their lives in small but incredibly poignant ways.

Over the next few years, Mihashi found many people he considered heroes, either to himself personally, or admired from afar. His definition continued to shift, but the same principles stayed true. When he had joined the little Nishiura baseball team, he knew almost right away that every single one of his teammates, the manager, and the coach were all heroes in their own right.

Tajima was an amazing player, easily the best over player on the team, and besides that he was a good person, who wanted to win for the sake of team, not just for his own personal glory, and who somehow really _got_ Mihashi and others around him, and was always helping them in small, subtle ways, even if those small gestures went unnoticed or unappreciated. The manager, Shinooka, was a hero for sticking with the team through thick and thin, doing so many tasks for them that made their practices and their games so much easier, and never asking for anything in return. Nishihiro was a hero for joining the team in spite of the fact that he had never played before, and then working so hard to get better.

Abe, the catcher, had been a hero to Mihashi from the moment he had introduced himself and proceeded to showcase Mihashi’s pitching and made him feel more welcome than he felt like he ever deserved. Sure, Abe was easily angered at first (or, as Mihashi learned later, frustrated), and had a hard time understanding Mihashi, but Mihashi considered him all the more hero-like for sticking with him through all that, and trying so hard to understand and work with him. He had been constantly afraid of upsetting Abe at the time, but looking back, he saw just how hard Abe was working to understand him too.

Besides being someone Mihashi felt now that he could have easily written about as his own personal hero, Abe was a hero for everyone else on the team as well, even if they didn’t always see that. He worked so hard for the team, not to see himself win, but to see all of them win and get stronger together.

Years later, after they had exchanged enough words with each other to fill a dictionary, after the petty had become the endearing and interesting, Mihashi told Abe about how he should have written about Abe for his essay, had he been given it when they had known each other, and Abe, laughing, had asked why. Mihashi had listed off all the reasons, watching Abe’s jaw drop further and further.

“Mostly though,” he paused, not sure if he was overdoing it, but too far to stop anyways. “Mostly…you’re a hero to me because you can make me more happy than anyone.”

After that, Mihashi had to spend a solid ten minutes trying to get Abe to take his head out of his hands, where he had burst into tears.


	4. Appreciation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takaya gives Mihashi a massage and realizes what a loser he is. That's about it.

There were a lot of things in the world that Takaya Abe appreciated, including the fact that he was aware enough of them to appreciate them at all. Even so, there was the occasional thing that he felt slightly afraid he would get jaded about, or things that he felt like he was missing, or frustratingly unable to become aware of. Then, when he would become aware of them, he would be overcome with an uncomfortable mixture of relief and frustration. Frustration at the opportunities he may have missed, relief that he wouldn’t miss any more. Today was one of those days.

As the last pitch hit his mitt with a satisfying THWACK, he jogged over to the dugout, with Mihashi in tow. “Pitches are looking good today, but you may wanna ease up on the power a little, those last two were a bit wild,” he said as he poured them both a drink and handed a cup to Mihashi. The pitcher nodded as he took the water, gulping it down noisily. His thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, his eyes unfocused.

Abe resisted the urge to laugh. Mihashi never failed to make the weirdest expressions. He was well aware of the fact that this time a year ago, he probably would have been more annoyed and frustrated than anything, at how distracted Mihashi seemed, how he was drinking too fast, and how he was generally twitchy and nervous - although he had calmed down considerably in the past year or so. Now however, He allowed himself a small serving of pride for the understanding of Mihashi he had gained, and renewed appreciation of his pitcher.

Mihashi stared out of the dugout, either lost in thought or devoid of it (Abe tended to think the former was much more likely nowadays), as he watched the rest of the team fielding and batting, their shouts distant as they were mainly in the outfield. Abe waited. Mihashi, wasn’t stupid, Abe knew as much now, but he did need time to mull his thoughts, and figure out how to express them in words. Some of his ideas were crazy, true, but sometimes crazy was what had won them games.

“I think we could really win Koshien this year…” he sounded almost like he was talking to himself, and there was an air of contemplation to his voice.

Abe stared. Wasn’t expecting that…“Of course we will!” he replied with bravado. “We just need to keep moving forward, and we _will_ get there, don’t be discouraged.”

Mihashi looked surprised as he met Abe’s eyes, as if just realizing he wasn’t alone in the dugout. He blinked a few times, and then his face broke into a grin, “Yeah!”

Abe huffed, unable to hold back a smile of his own as set down his cup, then he gestured towards the bench. “Sit” Mihashi sat immediately, swinging his leg over the bench and thumping himself down on it at a speed that made Abe wince. He didn't comment.

Abe knelt on the bench behind Mihashi, stretching his hands a bit before gently digging his fingers into Mihashi’s still somewhat scrawny shoulder muscles, eliciting a sigh from Mihashi, who slumped over in what Abe knew was content (the first time he'd done it, Abe had been more than a little alarmed). After Mr. Shiga, the supervisor, had shown Abe how to do a proper shoulder massage without damaging anything, using various teammates as guinea pigs throughout several lessons (after he'd taught a still-nervous Abe everything he needed to know, the guinea pig teammates had looked less than happy about being cast aside). He had suggested that the catcher start doing it after every pitching practice, to help prevent damage to Mihashi’s throwing arm by increasing circulation and loosening it up. Abe suspected that at least some of it had to do with him spending more time with Mihashi, something their coach, Momoe, seemed insistent on, but by that point he had started to really enjoy Mihashi’s company, so he couldn’t complain. Yet another thing to be happy he wasn’t jaded about…

Mihashi seemed to melt further and further into the bench as Abe worked his fingers into his muscles, along his neck and dorsals and down to his arms, focusing mainly on his right arm. Abe had to remind him several times to straighten up, but did so in a distracted, lazy way. Doing this always put him into a calm, focused, almost trance-like state, maybe not too far off from what Mihashi was put into. There was something so immensely satisfying about tracing his fingers along the lines of muscle and feeling them loosen like a plant unfurling in the sun.

As he reached Mihashi’s right bicep, he dug in deep – not enough to hurt but enough to get everything flowing. He almost jumped in surprise as his efforts received a long, drawn-out sigh that was so heavy with relaxation and contentment that it hung in the air. That was…new. He knew Mihashi enjoyed this part of their practice – the fact that he practically melted into the bench was proof enough of that, but this was the first time he’d shown it so…verbally. Mihashi was usually far too self-conscience as it was, so the fact that he was showing no signs of concern or embarrassment at what he had just done was telling of just how relaxed he actually was. Abe’s mind reeled.

He regained his composure quickly, but as he went back to work on Mihashi’s other arm, it was with a renewed sense of awareness. _Did that feel as good?_ Wondered Abe as he ran his thumb down Mihashi’s forearm. He realized after a while that he was actually _trying_ to make Mihashi sigh like that again, trying to put as much intent and focus as possible into each motion. He felt a tightening in his chest. The fact that something so simple could have such an effect - it was an incredibly satisfying feeling. The fact that _he_ had that effect on Mihashi, that he had this power to make Mihashi feel that good was…astounding.

Not only that, but Abe was suddenly fully aware of the affect this was having on his own mind as well. During his later middle school years, Abe had often found himself craving some sort of human contact, something more substantial than the occasional pat, slap, or touch he got from family members and teammates, but certainly nothing like the graphic fantasies that Tajima and most of the team seemed to relish, but which he just found unsettling and gross. Some days he had felt unexplainably sad, off-kilter, and had craved some kind of comfort even more. Something physical, concrete. He never knew how to ask, and didn't know who he would ask even if he could. He felt like his parents, at least, should have known, and should have comforted him, but he either hid it too well, or they weren't observant enough. He didn't begrudge them for it anymore, but it was still frustrating. As he became better friends with Mihashi and the team, he felt much more full and satisfied, so he hadn’t thought about it as much. Now though…

For not even the first time that month, Abe was hit with the feeling of frustration at how blind he really could be. He had added massage to their training regimen over a week ago, and had done it almost every single practice unless Shiga had been around. Even though he had, he supposed, offhandedly enjoyed it, or at least got some satisfaction for helping out Mihashi, especially seeing as Mihashi seemed to like it, he had been concentrating too hard on what Shiga-sensei had taught him, and on not messing up and hurting Mihashi, to really appreciate the experience. Abe shook his head at himself, at least thankful that he had realized at all.

***

“Uh, guys, weren’t you supposed to be at batting practice like, twenty minutes ago?” asked Tajima, kicking up dust as he hopped down into the dugout to get a drink. “Guys?” He walked right up to them and stared into Abe’s face, which was so intense as he focused on kneading Mihashi’s shoulders and back that he looked almost manic. Mihashi, for his part, had his head slumped to the side and appeared to be drooling, eyes almost closed.

“Wow, whatever you’re having, I’ll take some of it!”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what that was. Also, I'm incapable of writing a serious ending to anything apparently. *high-fives myself*


End file.
